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“Only two were obviously disturbed. I want you to take a look and see if you can tell if anything is missing, especially from her office.”
I frowned and winced. “I’ll look, but honestly, I don’t know that I’ve even been in her office. I mean, I’ve never had a reason to go in there. But I’ll take a look.”
I gasped when I walked into the office. Drawers had been left hanging open. Papers had been flung all over the floor. The cushions from the couch were standing on end. A desk lamp was lying on its side on the floor, the crystal lampshade shattered, the individual shards shining as Zack’s flashlight passed over them. A black safe sat in a closet, its door hanging open.
“How did they get into the safe?” I asked.
Zack pointed to an index card on the rug. “Combination. Whoever was here may have torn this place apart looking for that. Or maybe they were looking for something else. Can you see if anything is missing?”
I shook her head. “Honestly, I have no clue.”
“Follow me through the house. Tell me if you see anything amiss.”
When we reached the living room, I pointed to an empty shelf. “There were some vases and small objets d’art there. Lillian and her husband picked them up on their trip to China and Southeast Asia maybe ten years ago.”
“Can you describe them?”
“I can do better. There was an article in Dallas Living magazine maybe three years ago. That’s how I met Lillian. There were pictures of those pieces.” I looked at Zack. “They were quite valuable, both in memories for her and in monetary value.”
He nodded. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can see. Have you checked her silver closet?”
Zack looked over at the responding officer and arched a brow.
“I didn’t see a silver closet,” the patrolman said.
Internally, I groaned. That didn’t sound good. “This way,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers that the intruder hadn’t known about Lillian’s hidden closet.
The cops followed me into the kitchen. The sink of dirty dishes remained, reminding me that Lillian had lied to us last night. I’d been pretty sure at the time, and now with the missing art pieces Lillian and her husband had collected during their journeys, combined with the open safe, I was positive. I just didn’t understand why she’d lie.
In the kitchen, I went to the pantry and pressed on a wall. There was a click, and the wall opened into a small interior closet.
“We didn’t see this,” the patrolman confessed. “Good hiding spot.”
Zack flashed his light over the empty shelves. “It’s a burglary. Call it in.”
“I’m sick for Lillian. I’m glad she wasn’t here, but this is going to break her heart,” I said as Zack and I walked slowly back to his car. “Wait.” I stopped and grabbed his arm. “The alarm went off when they left, right?”
Zack nodded.
“So how did they get in?” I asked.
He gave me a sideways look and lifted an eyebrow. “You tell me.”
We took a few more steps, my brain whirling like a computer. I stopped and grabbed his arm again. “He was already in the house. Crappola. He was in the house when I locked up.” I squeezed Zack’s arm. “He was in the house while we were downstairs with Lillian. She lied to us.”
“I know.”
“When did you know?”
“Last night. Are you just discovering that?”
I blew out a sigh. “No. I knew she lied last night. The dishes?”
He nodded.
“So, what was all that nonsense about the stepstool?”
